


The Monster of Notre Dame

by kindereggos101



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996)
Genre: Also MJ is a horse :), Clint as Clopin, Feminine Peter Parker, Gwen is a monkey, Harry as Pheobus, Hunchback of Notre Dame AU, M/M, One-Sided Harry Osborn/Peter Parker, Peter as Esmeralda, Peter is technically a drag queen, This will take a while to write, Thomas as Frollo, Wade and Peter get together, Wade as Quasimodo, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 07:33:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18441941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kindereggos101/pseuds/kindereggos101
Summary: Wade Wilson had never stepped a foot outside Notre Dame. He's never talked to someone other than very few monks and his master. That's until the Festival of Fools comes back to Paris, but this year, this year will be different.





	The Monster of Notre Dame

 

    Snow fell silently onto Paris. The streets were lifeless at this late hour, all except for the rivers of Notre Dame. A small boat, designed only for two people, held five. The rower was cloak in full black, his head down and hands frozen to his staff. The other four were huddled behind him, a blanket made of burlap, the material scratching at their arms and scalps. It was two men, peeking out from holes in the burlap, with their arms circling the woman in the middle of them. Her hair was blond, but could easily be mistaken for daisy white, her eyes were a dazzling forget-me-not blue, that match the variety of blues that cloaked her body. Pressed to her chest was a blood red satin scarf, a baby, whinging from inside it.

    The rower turned to them as the baby let out a cry, and shushed them.

      “Hush little one…” She mumbled to the child. It opened it eyes, and met hers. It cooed gently at her a reached out towards her nose. She smiled gently at it, and allowed her finger to be nibbled by the baby. The boat rocked suddenly. The group watched the Rower look around for a moment, before turning and helping take the burlap off the gypsies.

    The younger of the two men helped the woman out the boat, cradling her and her baby. They looked at each other a smiled gently. The other man tapped the woman on the shoulder, and pointed to the rower who looked impatient.

      “Five Shillings for safe passage to the palace.” He held out his hand. Before any of the group could move, soldiers came charging in.

    They stormed through the snow, charging to the gypsies. The rower was snatched immediately, his face shoved into the shallow water of the rivers. The two men quickly rushed to the mother. But they were pulled away equally the same speed. More guards came flurrying, spears in hands and pointing them at the group.

    A horse trotted behind them all, an ashen shade to its coat. A man, no older than Forty, was sat atop it. Sooty black robes draped across him, a cap of the same shade covered his long brunette hair. His facial features were sharp and stern, a well kept beard upon his pointed chin, his eyes held a fiery hatred as he stared at the captured Gypsies.

      “Judge Claude Thomas…”

      “Take them to the Palace of Justice.” He sneered. The two men were immediately cuffed, the rower pulled from the stream, his teeth chattering and skin burning pink. The woman was left alone with her small bundle.

      “What do you have there?” One of the guards growled, snatching at her arm harshly.

      “Stolen goods no doubt.” She and the guard looked to him. “Take them from her.”

 

She ran.

 

    Her bare feet burned on the snow. Galloping down cobble streets and dodging horse carts. She could hear the horse charging from behind, nothing was stopping it. She could barely feel her face, but she knew she was crying. Her vision became blurred as she narrowed onto the end of the street.

    A wall was now in her way. She had some distance from Thomas, but he was swiftly getting closer. She looked down at her baby, and took a deep breath. She wrapped the scarf around her body, the baby kept close to her chest.

    She turned to two hollow barrels, a jumped onto their rims. Splinters immediately pierced her feet, she only had a second to wince. She leapt to the top of the wall, the barrels crashing down behind her. She managed to haul herself to the top with just one hand. Just as she was about to drop down to the other side, Thomas appeared behind her, his eyes flaring with rage.

    She quickly jumped down. Falling into a snow drift luckily. Notre Dame was just in front of her.

    Her feet were bleeding. Breathing was becoming difficult. She could barely see straight.

    She threw herself at the churches doors, and screamed.

      “Sanctuary! Please bring us sanctuary!” Her tears soaked the scarf around the baby. The baby cried out, and she noticed its hands beginning to turn blue. She unwrapped the baby from her chest, bundling him up and blowing onto his stubby fingers.

    The heard the harsh stomping and hooves. She turned, and Thomas was almost behind her. She ran again. Her breath was short lived.

    Thomas was now behind her.

    He snatched the bundle from her arm. She wouldn’t let go. That was until her head was slammed against the steps of Notre Dame.

    Thomas snarled at her lifeless body. He looked down at the scarf in his hands. The baby cried out.

      “A baby?” He unwrapped the red fabric, and gasped. The baby’s skin was like a procline doll. It was blistered and scabbed. Scars covered the baby’s young face as it screamed out. It was a disturbing display, the surface of the skin dipped and rose with different shades of scars. It peeked it eyes open softly. Those same forget-me-not eyes.

      “A monster…!”

    A well stood in the blowing snow. This was the only way to rid of such evil.

    He hung the baby above the pool of water, a snarl carved into his face.

      “Thomas!”

    He turned, the baby still in his grasp.

    The Priest stood behind him. Staring at the woman’s mutilated corpse. He then noticed the crying baby hanging in Thomas’s hold.

      “What have you done…?”

      “I’ve captured this unholy demon, I’m sending it back to hell where it belongs.” The Priest gasped, dropping to cradle the mother’s body.

      “You dare kill a mother, with her child’s blood spilled with hers?!”

      “She ran, I perused.” Francis trotted towards the Priest, the baby now drawn to his chest.

      “You speak yourself as a man of the Father, yet you kill a mother upon the churches steps, herself?” Thomas snarled down at the righteous Priest, the baby’s cries growing. “God shall never forgive a man like you!”

      Thomas froze at that. The flame in his eyes extinguishing. He looked towards Notre Dame. It felt as though every man that stood on her sides were staring at him. Anger in their stone eyes. Even the Gargoyles seemed enraged.

      “What must I do, for him to forgive me?” He looked down at the older man, who was carrying to woman inside the church.

      “Take in the child, and raise it as your own.” He said monotonously.

      “What? I…” He paused, and looked at the crying baby. He huffed. “Very well. But he must stay here with you in your church.”  

      “Here? But where?”

      “Somewhere where no one can see it…” He looked back up at Notre Dame, and heard the bell strike. “The Bell Tower perhaps.” He looked back down and the trembling child, eyes flooded with tears. “And who knows, our lord works in Mysterious ways…” The Priest eyed him cautiously, carrying the young woman inside the church.  He frowned at the door closing and glared down at the child. “Even this foul creature may improve one day to be of use to me.”

    The child was given a name, Wade Wilson, a sick reference to the child’s close to early death. And the woman’s last name, Thomas’s secret chamber maid who was meant to be his wife before she escape. Wade did indeed grow old in the Bell Tower. Receiving minimal education from the Judge, leaving to anyone who knew of the boy believing his deformities caused his brain to suffer, and therefore not be able to learn.

    Though Wade was never very bright, he had a knack for the arts. He studied the faces of those who visited the Church, staying in the monastery’s scaffolding and sketching their faces. He wished every day he went there he could just… to them, just say ‘hello’ without them being scared and he’d be satisfied.

 

    It was the middle of summer now, and he was doing nothing but lean over the towers ledge. It was the Festival of Fools. A weeklong celebration for those society rejects to then be praised. What he’d give to just live one day out there. But there he was, dark cloak to hide his skin, a red scarf around his waist to keep the silken shirt on him. The cotton shirts he once wore itched his skin to the point he’d scratch scabs across his arms and legs. Thomas had no other choice.

    “What’s up Wade?” He turned to see Neena Thurman, or otherwise known as Domino. She was a runaway from a slave trade, being protected by the Priest Steve. She didn’t come out much, reduced to cleaning shelves and preparing herbs and wine for ceremonies. Domino found Wade one day while trying to stop pigeons from entering the chapel. It took a while for her to get used to his skin, but they managed.

      “Festival of Fools…” He mumbled, flicking a pebble from the ledge into the streets below.

      “Ah right…” She stood next to him, looking down at the gypsies setting up the stalls and stage. “You know… you could go if you wanted.”

      “Are you crazy? I’ve got Mr. Go-Outside-and-you-will-die looking over me. And he’s going to be there, he’d definitely notice me.” It was true. Wade was a foot taller than the average man, with bulging muscles from bell ringing for almost 14 years. “If he found me… who knows what would happen.”

    “Stay on the outskirts with your hood up, won’t see you then.” Domino said casually, flicking another pebble down below. Wade took in a deep breath, and looked up. He saw the river Seine glittering with sunlight, clouds gliding softly above cottage house where people lived their _lives. Normal lives._

“I’ll go.”

    “Go where?” Wade and Domino turned to see two monks, Weasel (Or Jack Hammer) and Dopinder. Wade and Weasel met at a very young age, and Dopinder a few years later.

      “Wade is going to see some more freaks down there.”

      “You’re really going to be going Mr. Wilson?!” Dopinder scurried up to him excitedly.

      “Yeah I guess?”

      “You better bring me back cheese when you’re down there.” Weasel said, crossing his arms across his chest.

      “Wade Wilson? Who are you talking too?”

    Judge Claude Thomas.

    Wade grabbed the three and shoved them towards the bridge leading to the next tower. He then scurried back inside, seeing Thomas waiting by the edge of the room.

      “Answer me boy.”

      “Just the pigeons, Master.” He pulled his hood down a bit further. Thomas never approved to see his skin.

      “Right, and can pigeons talk?”

       “No… They can’t.” He gulped, bare feet shuffling into the floor boards.

      “A Clever boy. Now, lunch and then shall we o over your alphabet?” Thomas asked with a frown, holding up the basket in his hand. Wade rushed over to the shelves hidden by scraps of fabric. His plate and cup was nothing but old wood, leading to him drinking multiple splinters. Thomas’s on the other hand was polished silver.

    He set them down at the makeshift table of his, only made of scrapped statue parts and planks of wood. It was where he had all his drawings.

    Thomas sat down it his normal formal way, posture up right, a stark contrast to Wade’s which was slouched to hide his face.

    Wine was poured in each cup, and bread shared between the two. 

      “A?”

      “Abomination.”

     “B?”

      “Blasphemy.” With every letter, Thomas became more bored, as if he wanted this over with quickly.

      “F…” Thomas said with boredom, taking a sip of wine.

      “Festival---” He spat out the wine.

      “Excuse me?” His eyes turned harsh, glaring deeply into the cape on Wade.

      “F-Forgiveness…!” He shot his eyes up at his master, legs trembling under the table.

      “You said, festival.” Thomas got up to storm away.”

      “I’m sorry master, I-I didn’t mean---”

      “You were planning on going to the festival.” He stormed onto the bridge, looking over the festival being built.

      “I-It’s just you go every year---” Thomas cut him off again.

      “I am a public official I must go.” He started raising his voice. “But I don’t enjoy a moment off it.” His face contorted into a snarl when he saw some dancers on the street.  “Al those heathens mixed together in a sinful stupor.”

      “I didn’t mean to upset you master…”

      “Oh Wade, when your heartless mother abandoned you, anyone would’ve drowned you. And this is the thanks I get for taking you in as my son?” He turned away from the man, grinning to himself. 

      “I’m sorry sir…”

    Thomas walked to the door leading back into the cathedral, basket in hand and refusing to look at Wade.

      “I will see you tomorrow, Wade.”

      “Yes, Sir…”

He slammed the door shut, encasing Wade in nothing but silence.

 

    Harry walked down the streets of Paris, horse in tow. The buildings had gone much higher from last he was there, now he couldn’t find the palace of justice. He had tried to ask multiple fellow soldiers but none of them was even considerate enough to spare him a glance.

    With a deep sigh, he kept wondering, with just a few coins in his pocket, he only just had enough to feed is horse Mary. He turned a corner and heard joyous music, not the type he’d hear in taverns. He could hear tambourines and flutes, and lutes and trumpets. He turned a final corner, and he saw a small band playing on top of a water fountain.

    Two young twin boys playing the flute and lute, a middle aged man playing the trumpet. A small Spider-monkey was jumping around with a hat in hand, squeaking and cooing at anyone who took interest. It looked over and Harry, and happily jumped over to him, reaching the hat above it heads at him and tried to smile. With a small chuckle, Harry dropped two coins into it, and the monkey squeaked happily. Harry looked up from the monkey, and froze.

    They was another boy, older than the twins but far younger than the man. Messy unkempt umber hair, and tawny eyes. A golden hoop earring hung from one ear that was exposed, hair pulled back from it with a long piece of red satin that wrapped around his head. His shirt was surprisingly still white, unbuttoned to his navel. His feet bare and legs dressed in blue fabric. The boy began to dance with the monkey, shaking around a tambourine and he giggled. His smile made his tawny eyes sparkle and freckles more prominent.

    Needless to say, the boy was beautiful.

    He and Harry made eye contact, and the boy smirked.

    A small boy appeared on top of the wall, and whistled. The man gathered the twins and they scurried off. The boy and the monkey tried to gather the instruments, but the monkey dropped the hats.

    The boy gasped, as they tried to gather up all the coins, but passer-byers squashed the gold into the muck.

      “Alright gypsy, where’d you get the money?” Two guards stood in front of him, snatching the hat from his hands.

      “Bet he stole it.” The second guard chuckled out.

      “I bet you know a lot about stealing.” The boy snapped. Trying to grab the hat back. The monkey climbed onto his back and hissed at the guards. The one holding the other side let go, coins falling back into the mud.

      “Troublemakers like you deserve a day in the stocks.” The second one growled. Grabbing the boy’s arms. However the monkey screeched, turning the claw and the man’s face. This gave the boy a moment the stick the other guard in the stomach. The monkey scampered off with the boy following, scooping up the instruments and running down an alleyway. 

    Harry laughed at the clueless guards looking for where he went. He scooped up the remaining two coins, whipping off the excess dirt.

      “What are you looking at peasant?!” The first guard yelled, pulling out a dagger. Harry only looked at him smugly, and withdrew his sword.

      “You were saying, lieutenant?”

      “C-C-Captain?!” He tried to salute but only bashed himself with the handle of the dagger. “At your service sir.”

      “Wonderful, now.” He drew back his sword. “Show me where the palace of justice is.”

    As they walked, he saw a familiar blue tattered hat where a few coins laid inside. He looked at the two in his hands, and dropped them in.

 

    Thomas watched the prisoner get whipped without a sign of remorse.

      “Ease up.”

      “Excuse me sir?” The executioner asked, looking up at him curiously.

      “Ease up. Wait between lashes, or else the newer ones will die with the old.”  Harry cautiously walked towards the Judge, his brow furrowed.

      “Ah, Captain Harry returned from the War. Your track record exceeds you.”

      “It’s an honour to meet you sir. I promise to serve you with the highest honour.”

      “And that you should. Now, are you aware as to why I have called for you?” The walked away from the executioner and the chamber, towards a balcony over seeing Notre Dame.

      “Not completely, Sir.”

      “You shall help me with a war of a different kind. The war that plagues the people of Paris’s minds into sin,”

      “I’m not sure if I understand sir…” Harry’s eye brow creased further.

      “Look, Captain.” Thomas pointed down into the streets, where Harry saw the same boy with his monkey, the old man and the twins, all playing the same tune. A small crowd around them cheering happily. “Gypsies. For twenty-four years I have been, _taking care of them_. One, by, _one_. But for all of my success, they still _thrive_.” He hissed out the words as if it burned his tongue. “It is believed they have a haven in the walls of this very city. A nest, if you will. I want, them, _stopped_.”

      “You mean to tell me I was called form the wars to stop dancers and palm readers?”

      “Harry. It could be a shame if you were to end up like my last Captain. He was, quite the disappointment.” A cry was heard from the chamber inside.

      “I understand, sir.”

    A cheer was heard from the streets below, Harry saw that the stalls and stage of the festival were built and decorated, and crowd already filing in. Thomas snarled once more.

      “Duty calls.” He went to enter the palace once more, but turned back to the Captain. “Have you ever attended a peasant festival, Harry?”

      “Not since my younger years, Sir.”

      “Then this shall be quite the education.”

 

    Wade had made up his mind. He was going. He’d take Domino’s advice, and he’d live one day out there.

    He jumped down from the towers ledge, and gripped onto a pillar he then clambered down. His heart was pounding in his ears, but there was no backing out. He looked up, and saw Domino and Dopinder waving to him with smiles on their faces.

    A cheer came from the festival.

    It was time.

 

    Harry rode on Mary next to Thomas’s carriage, which looked like something you’d contain the insane with.

    The towns people were packed together, but left a space the travelled to the stage.

    Monks began walking down that gap, smiles on their faces as the welcomed everyone.

      “Come one.” Wade was almost near the ground now.

      “Come all!” He dropped down behind the crowd. And he felt elated. He’d never walked on the ground before, to feel dirt between his toes.

      “Leave your loops and milking tools, close the churches and the schools!”

    Wade looked up, there was around 20 monks standing in a row frozen still, and for a moment he thought of Weasel being one of them.

      “Come and join the feast… of…”

    All in sync, the monks threw their cloaks off, to show an array of fabrics and clothing, some dressed in shimmering colds and silvers, and others in brightly dyed fabrics. A man skidded out from under the first monk, dressed in purples and blacks with short cut blond hair.

       “FOOLS!” The man cheered, laughing wildly. That’s when the crowd started cheering. All moving towards the incoming parade.

    People dressed as jesters and kings, drogs seemingly walking humans, and man chased by a fish with a fishing pole. Some had flowers growing out their ears and noses. A man looked completely made of metal, and another blue and covered in fur. There were dancers showing off more skin than what was normally acceptable.

    The crowd split. Some ran to the centre where they partnered up and started dancing. Kids running towards puppets shows where the blond man popped up in it with a small puppet of Thomas. Pieces of paper and fabric were thrown around as everyone laughed, flags fell down with portraits of priests, judges, kings and noblemen in mocking displays. Though Priest Steve didn’t have one. Wade was shoved into the crowd, people rushing around excitedly. Children with balloons with faces of monsters and devils, he saw benches with men chugging down beers and waitresses in short dresses.

    Wade then saw Thomas arrive onto his own stage, and he ran through the crowd. He found a small tent and tried to hide in it, but was dragged out by dancers doing the Cancan, dragging off into the centre with the partnered dancing.

    He made another run for it, but was shoved by two drunken men into another tent.

    To try and catch his fall he hand to grab onto the curtain inside. But to his dismay, a woman was behind it, getting dressed.

      “Hey!” She yelled.

    Wade scurried into the corner, dragging the hood over his eyes.

      “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

      “You’re not hurt are you?” She crouched down in front of him. He tried to scurry away, but he felt the fabric of the tent behind him. He squeezed his eyes shut, really not wanting to see if she was naked or not, and squeezed the hood tightly.

    He felt her hands on his face, gently pulling it up.

      “Hey, look at me.” He did. Thankfully, she had a dressing gown on, covering all of her chest and down to her ankles. He looked up at her face, and…

    She was beautiful.

    Long Umber hair that fell to the middle of her back, soft freckles resting on her cheeks. Her eyes were stunning, a warm tawny colour, that was close to looking like burning embers. She had one hoop earring on her right, and looked to have no form of make-up on. And also seemed quite… Busty. Wade gulped.

       “You okay?” Christ, her voice was luxurious. Soft and gentle, but had a slight rasp to it. So shocked that this angel hadn’t flinched at his skin, he could only nodded at her. He met eyes with her, and she gasped softly, easing the hood back a bit as she stared into his forget-me-not blue eyes. A small monkey scampered up her back, and jumped into Wade’s lap. It looked deep into his eyes and almost looked like it was studying him, then it grinned, and cheered at the woman. She laughed. “She doesn’t normally like strangers that give her nothing.”

      “W-what’s her name?” Wade was hesitant to talk, still shocked and embarrassed. The woman looked at him with a tender smile. The monkey clambered up her arm and sat on her shoulder, chattering into her ear happily.

      “Her name’s Gwen.” The monkey looked at him with her large black eyes and grinned again.

      “You better hurry up in there, you’re on in five!” Wade heard a man call from outside the tent, the same man in black and purple.

      “Coming Clint!”

      “I-I’m sorry! I’ll g-go now.”

    The woman helped him to his feet, and led him to the tents entrance.

      “I hope to see you when I’m on stage,” She smiled at him, and Gwen leapt into his arms, then climbed around his body. Gwen climbed around his back, and the climbed back around and jumped at the woman again. “By the way, great mask.” He winked at him, before closing the tent. He smiled gently, and was grabbed by another dancer.

 

      “Come one!” Clint cheered from the main stage. Wade stood near it, and a girl behind him tapped his shoulders.

      “Is it alright if my daughter goes on your shoulders? She can’t see very well and I’m not strong enough to hold her…” The woman was wrong, her arms were like skin and bone, he child clutching her skirt by her waist.

      “Yeah, sure.” The girl laughed happily, as her mother helped her onto Wade’s shoulders.

      “Come all!” Clint threw his arms in the air as everyone began to crowd around.  The stage had a direct path to Thomas’s platform, and he ran across, skidding next to the Judge’s throne. “Hurry, hurry here’s your chance!” He nudged him with his elbow. “See the mystery and, romance!”

    He ran back to the main stage.

      “See the finest girl in France!” He reached into his pocket with a great smile. “Make an entrance to entrance!”

    The crowd was getting closer as the man sang.

      “Danse La Petra Parker---” He threw what was ever in his hand, and a cloud of red smoke burst around him.

      “Dance!”

    Clint was nowhere to be seen but in his place, _she_ was there.

    Petra danced around the stage, clothed in a beautiful red dress that clung to her body. A sheer blue scarf in her hands and she span around, like she was controlling water. Her tambourine in her other hand, hitting against her hips to go along with the band playing.  She kicked her legs up, most likely showing a little bit of what was underneath. A smirked danced on her blood red lips.

    She looked over at Thomas, who stared at her with a snarl and burning eyes. Her smirked deepened.

    Petra skipped towards him, throwing her scarf around his neck as she sat in his lap. Leaning in close, she kissed his thin nose, then shoved his hat down in his face. She happily skipped back to the stage, a smug grin now on her face.

    She grabbed a spear from one of the soldiers, stabbing it into the ground before swinging herself around it, her dress looking like fire in the sun. She span around the spear until she reached the ground, and looked over at Wade directly, and winked.

    The band stopped when she bowed on the ground. Coins were thrown at the stage, and Wade could only stare in awe as she grinned at the crowd, sweat beginning to appear on her face and chest. Clint reappeared and helped her to her feet. Wade, the girl, and the rest of the crowd applauded.

    Gwen scurried out from the stages curtain, and onto her shoulder.

    The girl on Wade’s shoulders gasped and giggled at the little creature, which brought a smile to his face.

      “And now, ladies at gentlemen!” Clint excited the crowd again. “Here it is the moment you’ve been waiting for!” Another woman joined the stage, short raid hair and a dress similar to the latter, but black with a sheer grey scarf. “Here it is, you know exactly what’s in store.” Wade, did in fact, not. “Now it’s time to laugh until our sides get sore. Now it’s time to crown the king of fools!” The crowd cheered. “You all remember last year’s king?!”  A man was carried out in a wooden throne, his skin almost looking like pure muscle. On the back of the throne it said ‘Carnage’, most likely a nickname. The man was incredibly intoxicated.

      “So make a face that’s horrible a frightening!” Man left and right, wearing cotton masks of different animals, were reaching out their hands, being pulled up by the two women on stage. “Ugly folks forget your shyness!” The dancer came up to Wade, and reached out a hand. The girl from his shoulders slipped into her mother’s arms, gripping his cape as he was pulled onto the stage. The cape fell, exposing his mutated skin. He was too entranced by the woman’s eyes to hear the few gasps from the crowd. Clint came up to Wade and squeezed his arms, before joined the two women at the other end of the stage, where all the men were lined up.

    Petra threw off the first mask, and the man pulled a face, trying to look as ugly as possible. The crowd retorted with a boo. And Gwen leapt out to push the man into a muddy puddle. The same happened to the other 5 contestants, all falling on top of each other. The dancer came up to him last, and grasped the side of his face. Wade was snapped out of his trance when she pulled on his skin, and gasped in horror.

    The crowd gasped with her. Gwen scrambled up his leg and looked directly at him, and she didn’t grin.

    The crowd began whispering. He looked down at the woman and her child and they were looking up with show and… sympathy?

      “That’s no mask!”

      “It’s his face!”

      “He’s hideous!”

      “It’s the bell ringer from Notre Dame!”

    The crowd all gasped at that. Wade saw Thomas stand up, and just stared at him.

    Wade felt his breath stop in his throat. All he wanted was to get his cape over his head and run, but he couldn’t. The red haired woman slowly pulled the dancer away who looked at him, with what Wade couldn’t distinguish.  

      “Ladies and gentlemen! Don’t panic!” He felt Clint place a hand on the small of his back. “We asked for the ugliest face is Paris, and here he is!” The crowd looked up at Clint with widening eyes. “Wade Wilson the bell ringer of Notre Dame!” Then, the crowd cheered. The song from the parade was sung again, Wade was carried to the wooden throne and Carnage was thrown out of it.

    He was carried over to a platform near the centre of the square, and cape from the red haired woman was thrown around his shoulders, and a plush hat placed on his head. Clint handed him a staff and confetti flew all around them.  Wade looked up at Thomas and waved nervously.

    The song was rising, the cheers flooded Wade’s ears and he couldn’t stop smiling.

    The song ended, and everyone cheered as loud as they could, chanting his name as if it was a blessing.

    He looked around for Petra, while waving at those chanting his name.

    However, it all ended when something was thrown at his face. It was wet and smelt weird. Wade scrapped it off to see it was a tomato.

      “Now that’s ugly!” He heard someone cheer. The crowd began to laugh. Another was thrown, and another, and another, until the whole crowd began throwing different foods at him. His pulse quickened, along with his breath. He tossed the cape off and threw the staff. He tried to run off the podium, but a rope was strung around his neck.

      “Where you going you’re majesty!? The fun is just beginning!” The man holding the rope called out. He began to pull on it until Wade toppled backwards, choking as he went. The crowd’s laughs only got louder. More ropes began to wrap around him, on his arms and wrists, one onto his ankle when he tried to dash away again, making him slip into the piles of tomatoes, egg shells and any other muck the people could find. The rope around his neck kept being pulled, and Wade couldn’t grab it with his hands being now tied behind his back, the rope cutting through his skin.

    His shirt began to rip as he pulled to try and stand up, but men from the crowd jumped up to tie him down to the podium. He then noticed the circle he was on, with pegs sticking out. The men behind him grabbed those pegs, and spun him.

    People kept throwing food at him, but he was somewhat grateful that the rope around his neck was let go.

    His head hurt. His arms hurt. His neck hurt. His legs hurt. He could barely breathe, he could barely see. He felt like he was about to throw up.

    Harry looked on at the tied man, biting his lip in concentration, then turning to look at the Judge. Thomas merely sat there with a disgusted look on his face.

      “Sir, permission to stop this cruelty?” Harry was close to begging. Thomas looked down at him, showing no emotion on his face.

      “In a moment, a lesson must be learnt here.”

    The spinning stopped.

    Wade looked up with blurred vision, and saw _her_.

    But, it wasn’t her.

    This was a boy with messy unkempt hair and freckles littering his cheeks. A pearl white shirt reach their navel and no breasts were seen. But the eyes. The eyes that were tawny but close to being burning embers.

    It was _him_.

    The crowd went quiet. He crouched down in front of Wade, and held out a long cloth. Wade flinched as it touched his cheek.

      “Don’t be afraid.” He began to wipe the muck from his cheek. “I’m sorry, this wasn’t meant to happen.” Gwen climbed up and started picking food from Wade’s scalp.

      “You. Gypsy boy.” Everyone turned to look at Thomas. “Get down there at once.”

      “Yes your honour, just as soon as I free this poor man.”

      “I forbid it.”

    Wade saw the boy growl, and take a dagger from his waist, He squeezed his eyes shut, but felt the ropes around him be cut.

      “How _dare_ you defy _me_.” The boy looked Wade in the eyes, took a deep breath, and turned to the Judge.

      “You mistreat this poor boy, the same way you mistreat my people.” He pointed at Wade with his dagger. “You ignore those most in need of your help!”

      “Silence!”

      “ ** _Justice_**!”

    The crowd waited for something to happen. The gypsy boy helped Wade to his feet, picking off food with Gwen.

      “Mark, my words gypsy, you will pay for your insolence.” Thomas sharply pointed at her, his glare hardening.

       “Then it appears we’ve crowned the wrong fool,” He bowed while pointing over at Wade. “The only fool I see,” He picked up the plush crown, “Is you!” He threw the crown at the judge, it landing at his feet with a squeak. Thomas puffed his chest out in fury.

      “Captain Harry, arrest him.”

    With hesitance, Harry snapped his fingers, and pointed at the boy, who glared at him. The soldiers came flooding in, though the ones on horseback stayed at their post.

      “So there’s… ten of you… and one of me…” He held the cloth close to his face. “What’s a poor boy to do…?” He then began to cry into the cloth, until he sneezed into a giant cloud of red cloth.

    Harry felt someone pull the sword from his side, and saw the boy running past him and Thomas, across the bridge onto the stage.

      “Witchcraft…” Thomas gasped.

      “Roll up, roll up! Step right up to prove how manly you are for all the women to see!” The boy yelled, a smirk playing on his lips. This only aggravated the soldiers, all crowding onto the platform. “Now, now gentlemen! This cannot be fair, seven of you against lil’ ol’ me?” The people laughed and cheered in agreement. “You shall come up first! The one who beats me shall be the winner!” The audience roared.

    One by one, soldiers duelled against him, and one by one fell from the stage, with some type of damage. With the last one now laying on the floor, knocked out cold, the gypsy picked up his helmet, and threw it at Thomas. Gwen stuck her tongue out from the boy’s shoulders and then grinned cheekily.

    He ducked just in time as it cut through the curtain behind him.

      “Are you alright sir?”

      “Quiet, and get that boy!”

    But when they looked back at the stage, the boy was gone. The crowd looked at them, and shrugged.

    Thomas breathed deeply to calm himself.

      “Find the gypsy boy, I want him _alive_.”  

    The sun hid behind the clouds as Harry gave out his orders. Thomas turned to Wade, who awkwardly still stood on the podium. A smile that was once on his face fell when he saw the rage in his Master’s face. With a shuddering breath, and slipped down from it.

    The people drew back, leaving a path for him to walk through. He stumbled as he walked through, trying to keep his eyes solely to the floor. He was almost at the Cathedrals steps when he felt a tug on his arm. He looked down, and saw the little girl looking up at him. She held out his cape, and gave him a smile.

    With shaking hands, he grabbed it, throwing it around his shoulders as it began to rain, and he scurried inside.

**Author's Note:**

> So this took a lot out of me, I actually started writing this months ago but lost interest, but hey I finished it in one day :D Hope you enjoyed


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